Each Drop of Black Blood
by Ginki
Summary: As you follow the trail, the story takes shape. These scenes from one child's life. A series of Chrona-centric oneshots.
1. Away

**Away**

* * *

Just something quick, trying to get a hold on Chrona's voice. Geez, I love this character. 3

* * *

I'm leaving.

I didn't want to leave, I didn't want to do any of this.

The Hell inside my head was getting smaller, too. I was getting better. Everything was getting better because of Maka. Maka, and then everyone else, too. I was starting to understand how to deal with it.

But then she came back. I didn't know it was her but she came back and ruined everything. I couldn't tell anyone, not even if I wanted to. Because I always have to do what she says. Because that's what she says.

I don't want to. Just like I don't want to leave. I don't want to listen. I don't want to do what she says.

But I have to, and then I can't deal with anyone. They would all be mad at me if I told them, and I can't tell them anyway. I can't. I can't do anything.

I'd rather just stay by Mr. Corner forever. Then I'd be safe from Medusa-sama, and I wouldn't have to deal with anyone. Ragnarok might try to talk to me, though, and I don't want that. He'd tell me I was being an idiot again. I don't want to have to deal with him either.

But, I can't do that. I wasn't able to do that.

I wanted to scream, but not to resonate with Ragnarok, for once. Just to tell her what I wanted. That I wanted to stay. But I couldn't. I can only scream to resonate, I can't tell anyone anything. Ever.

Maybe one day I'll be strong enough to overcome Medusa-sama. That I'll be able to overcome that insanity. I don't know if I can, though, since I've listened to her for so long.

But that was before Maka, before everyone else, before I met them. So maybe I can do something now. Maybe I can come back and face them and tell them I'm sorry. One day. When I'm strong enough to do it.

But for now, I'm leaving.


	2. Stronger

**Stronger**

* * *

I wrote this for an RP application. I'm rather fond of it, though, so I thought I'd share. Plus, it's about Chrona and we can NEVER have enough Chrona, amirite?

* * *

These people weren't really good.

They were thugs, at best. But they hadn't gone so bad that Ragnarok couldn't eat them. Besides, they were being mean to that little girl right now, they had her surrounded, except one guy was in front. Chrona saw it. At least, he assumed it was a little girl. She was shorter than the other thugs, anyway. Smaller was the same as littler, right? Yeah, he thought so.

He heard Ragnarok coaxing him to continue. He didn't need the encouragement. Medusa had told him what to do already, and he'd do it. That was why they were here. To get rid of these people, so he would get stronger. He and Ragnarok. They were doing their duty to society, really.

He assumed his fighting stance, left hand on his right arm, Ragnarok in hand, and threw himself into the crowd of thugs, stopping short in between the guy in front and the girl he was intimidating with all the grace of a rag doll.

"Hey!" he shouted, "What the hell are--"

"Screech," Chrona said, not facing his opponents, still leaning over his sword as a mouth began to form on the blade, "Resonance."

And the dark alleyway was filled with the chainsaw-like vibrations of the sound of insanity. It would leave nothing but a boy leaning over a sword in it's wake.

Not even the little girl.

But she was really just smaller.

And she probably wasn't a good person anyway.


	3. Art

**Art**

* * *

OH HI GUYS. MY NAME'S GINKI AND I'LL BE SHIPPING CHRONAxMAKA LIKE IT'S MY JOB FOR A WHILE, IS THAT COOL? I KNOW IT IS, SINCE I'M WRITING IN CAPSLOCK. CRUISE CONTROL INTO THE FIC, WHEEEEEE!

* * *

Maka always believed that art had a special power over people's souls, the ability to move someone in a way nothing else could. Poetry, especially.

No one else really understood why she loved poetry so much. Mostly, they just put it in the category of "Things That Maka Likes Because She's a Nerd." Also in that category were books and getting A's on tests. It kind of offended her, in a way. But one day, they'd all discover a poem that touched their souls the way nothing else ever had, and they'd understand.

She tried to help Chrona with poetry, she really did. It was just... maybe Chrona wasn't ready to write a poem that could help him, not yet. But that was okay, one day he'd be able to write a poem that made him feel better about the feelings he'd written down. Maka always felt better after writing poetry, at least.

But that didn't matter, art would help heal the wounds of Chrona's soul. She still believed in its power.

* * *

"Hey, Chrona!" Maka called out after class one day, "Chrona, do you want to come over to the apartment today?"

Maka may as well have asked if Chrona though the sun would laugh tomorrow, there was never any doubt what his answer would be.

* * *

Maka had gotten a whole treasure trove of artistic supplies, paints, brushes, a canvas, everything Chrona would need to create a masterpiece.

"I thought you might like painting, Chrona. I still think you're the artistic type," Maka smiled, leading Chrona through the doorway to her apartment.

"I-I don't know..." Chrona said softly, taking in the scent of the paint Maka had set up. It wasn't like anything else he'd ever smelled. It was weird, and oily, and didn't smell like blood at all, even the black stuff.

"There's nothing to know, though," Maka smiled, "Just do what you feel like, okay? Paint something that makes you happy."

"Okay, I guess."

Was Chrona... blushing? Maka wondered for a second, but lately Chrona had been looking shy all of the time, it was probably nothing. Hopefully the poor kid wasn't getting a fever. It'd just be another thing to add to why Chrona had decided Hell was in his mind.

"Y-You can't look until I'm done, okay?"

"That's okay! I know art's sometimes a solitary thing."

"T-Thank you. For doing this for me, Maka."

Maka just smiled and walked to the couch, leaving Chrona to create in peace, just as she'd done with the poem before.

* * *

This was embarrassing. So embarrassing.

Chrona didn't want to disappoint Maka this time. He could tell she'd been disappointed with his poem. Along with Soul, and Black Star, and that creepy blue guy and a bunch of other people. He didn't want to let them down, either. But it was mostly for Maka because he really did like Maka best.

But that wasn't why it was embarrassing.

It was because, as he took the paintbrush into his right hand, with his left hand on his upper arm, painting in the same stance he used to fight, he couldn't think of anything that made him happier than Maka.

There wasn't anything bad about the painting, although it was no masterpiece, it was just a little girl, and a little boy who each had a somewhat striking resemblance to Chrona and Maka. And they were holding hands.

It was cute. Chrona liked it.

But it was still embarrassing.

He was kind of surprised that Ragnarok hadn't come out to tell him how much of a perv he was for painting something like this, though. Although he supposed he should be grateful.

He took the brush away from the small canvas, and looked at what he created.

It wasn't beautiful, by any means, but Chrona still felt proud for creating it on his own. Maybe Maka would like it, too. Maybe.

"Oh, are you finished, Chrona?"

"M-M-M-Maka!" Oh no, what if she didn't like it, what if she thought it was offensive? Oh, why couldn't Chrona have tried to draw a flower or something, Ragarok was right, he was always so stupid!

"Is that..." Maka squinted her eyes, slightly, and Chrona thought for a second that she was glaring at him, but suddenly her face brightened, "Is that me, Chrona?"

"...Y-yeah," Chrona mumbled in a general downward direction, not facing Maka, in case she was still mad.

Maka sniffed.

Oh no, what if she was so saddened by this horrible waste of the supplies she'd given him that she would cry? He wouldn't know how to deal with that!

"M-Maka! Don't cry! I'm sorry! I'm really sorry!" Chrona wailed as he retreated into the corner of the room.

Maka continued sniffing.

"N-No, Chrona, it's not that at all, I'm really happy!"

"B-But..."

"I'm so happy that you have something that makes _you_ happy," she paused for a second, and then she giggled, "and it makes it even better that it's me."

"You're not mad, then?" Chrona peeked out from behind the hands that covered his face, still sitting with his knees up to his chest in the corner of the room. Not replying yet, Maka walked over to him, and sat down until she was eye-level with him.

"I don't think I could ever be mad at you, Chrona," She smiled, and hugged Chrona, "But do you think painting helped you at all?"

"Yeah..." Chrona replied, not adding that Maka hugging him helped a lot more. It always would.

* * *

"Yo, Maka, what's up with that ugly new poster in your room?" Soul asked Maka the next day.

"What?"

"You know, that new one, with the two kids in it. It's not very well done. You should ask for your money ba--"

**"MAKA CHOP!"**


	4. Kill

**Kill**

* * *

BRB, counteracting the fluff in the last chapter.

* * *

The nine-year-old Chrona was finished killing bunnies.

"This is gonna be our first soul, Chrona, don't screw it up." Ragnarok jeered from Chrona's back.

They had already decided on their target. It would be that homeless guy that lived underneath the bridge on Banqou Street, which Chrona and Ragnarok were looking down at from the skyscraper. Nobody would miss him, that homeless guy, that's what Medusa-sama said. He'd been sick for the past few days, too. He'd be an easy target.

Like the bunnies. Simple. Wouldn't fight back.

It still felt weird to be killing a human, though.

"Ugyuuu..." Chrona groaned, a late response to Ragnarok's previous comment. He wouldn't screw anything up. This would go just like Medusa had told him to.

Right now.

Ragnarok's wings hardly kept Chrona from falling to his doom as the two glided downwards toward the bridge. Ragnarok yelled about how fat Chrona was and how he'd have to start eating all of his food again.

But this would be simple. Bunny-simple. Just like before. Nothing different.

They landed, slightly more gracefully than the first time they had flown together, and Chrona could see the man they had to kill.

He was disgustingly dirty, and he smelled like pee, and he was covered in layer upon layer of clothes. His beard was nasty and stringy, just like his hair, and his face looked old and tired.

But his eyes, his eyes were bright and grey and...

They looked like Chrona's.

And they were as wide as the bunny's.

And suddenly Chrona wasn't as convinced that this would be as easy as he'd hoped.

"Ragnarok, I don't wanna do this anymore."

"TCHEEE?" Ragnarok yelled, already in the form of a sword in his hand, and began the screech resonance without Chrona's consent.

"Aww, Ragnarok..." Chrona mumbled, already admitting defeat. He saw the homeless man gripping his head in agony, as all the victims of screech resonance did before they succumbed to the insanity and death it brought.

But suddenly, still clutching his head, the man noticed Chrona.

"Sweetie? Is that you?"

"Uguyuu?" Chrona grunted inquisitively. No-one called him that before. Especially no-one that was about to die.

"Daddy wanted to see you one more time," The man struggled with the words, as Ragnarok was still screaming, "Daddy's so happy, sweetie."

"R-Ragnarok! W-What should I do?" Chrona suddenly realized people might miss the man, probably this 'sweetie' person. Chrona didn't want that, that was being mean. Meaner than Ragnarok was to him all the time.

"KILL HIM, IDIOT!"

"Sweetie?"

There was an insane smile, and a flash of red.

Not black.


	5. Brother

**Brother**

* * *

Oooh, I can't tell you what this is about. I wanted to make the ending a zinger, y'know. You can probably figure it out, though, since these are all about Chrona...

This is all completely true in my headcannon, but the way. As far as I'm concerned, he IS the brother. He does act like a pretty mean one, though.

* * *

Medusa was not one to waste raw materials.

The two of them were perfect for this experiment, only one of them was a weapon, the other could be the meister. Their wavelengths would certainly be compatable.

The first one, the weapon, would be much easier job. Injection of black blood for roughly three weeks, and then melting it down while it was still in weapon form. It was quite a simple and clear-cut procedure, and the results had already been tested in other lab settings, all preformed by her. There could be no question of these results.

The variable in this procedure would be the second one. The meister, as it were. This would be the first experiment where the injected blood was to be kept alive with the host. It was a bit more risky, since in this case, death could not befall the host, either. Two souls who were so well-matched for a procedure like this would probably be hard to find again, and Medusa did not want to waste this chance.

The first experiment went by smoothly, as she had predicted. However, it seemed that keeping the subject alive for the whole of it was more painful than she anticipated, if the increased screaming was any indication. However, sacrifices were needed in order to advance the knowledge of the black blood. It was likely that the weapon wouldn't remember this event anyway.

Injection of living blood was also more of an ordeal. Ordinarily, Medusa would be able to use a typical syringe on any patient, and they would feel no more than the usual sting of a needle. But to inject living blood, a more obviously experimental syringe was used. There were reinforcements to make sure the blood did not escape until in was within the meister. Once she injected it, it seemed the blood itself wanted to fight for control of the body, and the thrashing against every nerve ending was quite painful for the host.

These pains did not cease until six weeks later. Much of the blood had calmed down, but this did not count as success, as Medusa could no longer tell if it was alive. Blood samples showed no indication of sentience, and, for a bit, the mission was deemed as a failure.

One day after those terribly unsuccessful six weeks, the meister's back exploded, leaving raw carnage strewn across the floor, and the patient writhed in pain like never before. The whole room smelled like insanity.

Medusa observed. This was an interesting development, to be sure.

The blood, too, writhed and began to take a certain shape, and that shape was most definitally human. Most definitely alive. And so, beyond a shadow of a doubt, Medusa had succeeded. She had _won_.

She then saw fit to acknowledge the sentient blood. It would be the only time that Medusa would acknowledge his existence being separate from that of his couterpart. The only time she would recognize him as having significance at all, the second he was born to her once again.

"Hello, Ragnarok."


	6. Dispose

**Dispose**

* * *

I picked up Chrona at 42_souls on LJ because I looooooove Chrona. This one's prompt is "pretend you are strong." (#29)

Why the heck did I chose the one set of prompts that were NOT one word? Because, seriously? All of my chapter titles are ONE WORD. I'm an idiot, I know. (cries)

Anyway, this fic was heavily influenced by The Sound and the Fury, which I was reading in class. And that style has been poorly interpreted in this fic. I was kinda tryin' to get a hold on Chrona's voice again, but this time without Chrona having any real sense of self. Which bascially entailed me never using "I." What a cop-out.

I NEED TO STOP WRITING THINGS THAT ARE SO EMO SORRY I'LL WRITE SOMETHING RIDICULOUSLY FLUFFY NEXT TIME I PROMISE OKAY THIS INTRODUCTION IS REALLY LONG I GUESS I'LL STOP NOW.

* * *

"Again, Chrona."

And this was training. Training. Not anything. Just rabbits. So many rabbits. Where did she find them? Did she make them? Out of vectors? Just one, now. Only one. But one day it would be real. But that was the future. Not now.

"Again. Don't just stand there blank-faced."

Blank. Blank was white. Like the room. Like the fur of the rabbits. How to react? How to deal? So Ragnarok was never blank. Except maybe his face. So he was the same. It would make sense.

Ragnarok was higher. Couldn't see him. He made noises again but everything was still blank. A pair of tiny red eyes. Could see beneath already. Red eyes. Red eyes. What did they see? Even though seeing straight through to it's brain was easy. So easy. Either way.

Ragnarok came down. Again. Again. Do it again.

Raganarok was screaming. Happy screams? Disappointed? Because the rabbits were only tiny souls. Like tiny eyes, both gone. So Ragnarok ate it even though it didn't matter. Wouldn't make a Kishin, that's what Medusa said. It didn't matter.

"You have no power to back up your blood, Chrona. You have to be stronger. Especially if you want to become a Kishin."

Chrona wanted to become a Kishin?

_Kishin_ was red, too. Like blood. Not the black kind. Medusa's kind. The one time a Kishin was shown, it was red. Medusa wanted to make sure that nothing would be confused. Normal souls were different. But that was just a memory. Years ago.

Now was not a memory. But it would be. The memory would always be red. Not blank. Not black. Red.

"Chrona, are you paying attention?"

Chrona was paying attention. Hearing every word. Sounds enter through ears and then enter the brain because Chrona has one too and then Ragnarok can hear too because he's the same. Blank. Just the face. Not the ears.

"You're completely unmanageable, practically comatose. I'll never be able to create a Kishin if you keep this up, Chrona."

Sounds. Ears. Words. It all meant very significant things. What was comatose? Was it red?

"I have no problem disposing of you if you do not become stronger."

Disposing was bad. That was also a memory. In the past. And now. In the room that was blank that had the two with the blank faces the rabbit was also disposed. It didn't exist anymore. Just a body. Not a soul.

Couldn't...

"Not this time, though."

Dispose.

"If you can't be strong, at least pretend."

There was one less person in the blankness. And then there was silence. And Ragnarok. And a body without a soul.


	7. Marie

**Marie**

**

* * *

**I love Marie, she's adorable.

As of recently, writing anything is like pulling teeth from a person who doesn't have any. It is painful and I'm sorry if this fic sucks because of it. I didn't proofread this either, lol.

_Prompt 3 - "no worries, darling!"_

_

* * *

_

Marie didn't want to be a mother.

Obviously, people got married before they ever had children. It was just the way it was done. It made sense, it would be a lot easier raising a child if there was more than one person to help take care of it. That kind of logic was perfectly reasonable. Of course, Marie was not always a reasonable person.

Like when she saw that poor kid walking down Shibusen's hallways.

Marie didn't want to be a teacher.

Teachers had a rough time of it getting married, after all. Surrounded by kids all the time, rather than their own peers. Marie feared getting old and lonely. Such a state was not a desirable one, after all. So Marie pouted a bit, but eventually went along with it. An income was important, after all. And Shinigami-sama's orders were important enough for her to forgo her own desires, at least for a while.

But she couldn't help wanting to help the lavender haired child when any question was asked of her.

Marie didn't want to let anyone down.

So, when Chrona decided to confront her, she had no problem with bringing the child into the room she and Stein were sharing. Chrona seemed to be literally shaking with fear, or nervousness, or something. Marie could never quite tell. Although, she did want to make the space as comfortable as she could.

"How about some tea, Chrona?"

Fidgety, that was the only word that came to mind at the moment, as Marie looked at Chrona, tugging on dress fabric and looking side to side like a cornered rabbit.

"I- I uh, that is..."

Marie just smiled, and returned with the tea. She laid the drinks on the coffee table, and sat across from Chrona on the couch.

"Now, what is it that you wanted to talk about?"

Marie was simply overjoyed that the kid was speaking to anyone. She was concerned for all of her students, a feeling that had manifested itself without her knowledge or consent within the time she had started working at Shibusen. But with that had come a special concern for this child in front of her. She didn't know why, but there it was.

"Uh..."

Plus, Chrona was kind of adorable.

Suddenly, Ragnarok exploded from Chrona's back, making his usual complaints, "Hey! Whaddabout MY stuff?"

"Oh?" Marie replied, thinking it was probably better to be nice to both the yin and the yang within Chrona, whether they had separate consciouses or not, "You don't have a mouth, though, Ragnarok. How are you going to drink?"

Ragnarok promptly showed Marie this was not going to be a problem, and Marie, throughly disturbed by Ragnarok's disappearing mouth, left for the kitchen again.

She mused for a moment, pouring the tea. She fantasized for a second, about being married, and adopting Chrona as her child. She, her husband, and Chrona would live an idyllic life on a house on a hill and gradually, ever so gradually, Chrona would begin to forget that blood-color even mattered at all.

Which would never happen.

"Do you want sugar or anything?"

Chrona and Ragnarok both tensed when Marie looked back into the room. They slowly turned around, until...

"Uh, add, salt. Or something spicy," Ragnarok regained his composure.

"Oh, well, okay," Marie grinned sheepishly. Black blood had weird tastes, that's for sure.

Marie finally returned to the room, and Chrona was silently nursing the cup of tea Marie had set down earlier. She smiled, and sat down on the chair across from the coffee table, setting down Ragnarok's drink in the process. Chrona eyed it suspiciously for a second (after all, it was practically boiling with the ingredients that Marie put in) but quickly returned to sipping the tea.

"Now can we talk, Chrona?"

"Uh, well, I..."

"Actually, we gotta go," Ragnarok butted in, having already downed the concoction in a single semi-disgusting glup.

"Y-Yeah, that's it," Chrona stuttered and got up from the couch, "T-Thanks."

Marie looked quizzically at the two, but shrugged off the feeling that anything was wrong.

Marie didn't want to ruin the tiny amount of confidence Chrona had started to build.

"Well, you know you can always come to me if anything is wrong, right, Chrona?"

"Y-Yeah."

"By the way, isn't this your pen, Chrona?"

"Y-Yeah."

Marie had only wanted to see her students smile.

So, maybe one day, they'd forget the color of their blood.


	8. Adoration

**Adoration**

* * *

PULLING

JDFSKJFSDAJKAFSDJDKING

TEETH.

I HATE EVERYTHING.

I'm sorry I suck. I was writing this at the same time as the last one.

_38) "I knew what I was feeling, but what was I thinking?"_

_

* * *

_

It was in his gut. People always said, "I feel it in my gut," but what were they feeling in their gut? If you were feeling different emotions, did your gut feel different? Chrona never had to deal with something like that before, he never needed to make a desicion. Everything had already been decided by Medusa or Ragnarok beforehand, there was no need for his input. No need for his gut. Not for eating, either, usually.

So if it wasn't needed, why did he feel like this? So sick and nervous and warm.

"Crona? What's the matter?" Maka asked as they were walking out of the classroom, "Are you sick?"

Maka placed a hand to Chrona's flushed face, leading the boy only to appear more feverish than before. Chrona clutched his books tighter to his chest, and attempted in vain to hide behind the lock of hair in his face.

"Chrona! You're burning up! Let's take you to see Ms. Nygus, alright?"

Maka grabbed onto one of Chrona's hands, which quickly fell out of it's position of clutching his books. Chrona made a little surprised noise, and began softly protesting.

"M-Maka I don't I mean I'm fine there's nothing wrong with me..."

"Don't be silly, Chrona. If you're sick, you need to get better. And nobody's better at that than Ms. Nygus." Maka had, evidentially, made up her mind about the matter, and nothing was going to change it.

But, somehow, Chrona knew that nothing that Nygus would do would make him feel better.

It wasn't that Nygus was a bad nurse. She wasn't. Chrona knew that.

But somehow, he knew he'd have to deal with this on his own. Without Ragnarok or Medusa or anyone at all.

His gut told him so.

"M-Maka!"

"Huh?" Maka finally turned around to face him.

Unfortunately, Chrona hadn't thought about how to deal with this situation much further than shouting her name.

"I-I ughuu..." Chrona began, searching within his mind for words. Maka waited patiently for him to compose himself. Not pushing him to do anything, not directing him. It was still surreal to Chrona that anyone would do that. That anyone would allow someone like him to speak for himself.

"I... I'm not sick, I... I feel like..." Why was it suddenly so hard to talk to Maka? What was he trying to say?

Maka giggled, and Chrona's gut did something similar to a backflip, which probably meant he was going to die. But that was okay, because if the last thing he ever saw was Maka giggling then he would be fine with it.

"Chrona, don't hurt yourself."

It was just that, in that moment, Maka looked to happy and pretty and _perfect_ that it seemed like all that mattered was...

"Maka I-I..."

Chrona couldn't think of anything of any way communicate this to her. This feeling that made his mind and heart race in time with each other. Words were to little, not enough, to express the way he felt right now.

So he gave up, and ever-so-gently fell into Maka's shoulder.

"C-Chrona? Did you pass out? Are you okay?" Maka's hands were on his back, coaxing him to get up, so she could see if he was okay.

Without facing her, still buried in her shoulder, Chrona mumbled.

"Chrona? What was that?"

"I love you, Maka."

There was a gasp that Chrona couldn't see, but he felt it, because Maka's whole body tensed and she got just a little taller and Chrona couldn't think straight what had he said what had he done this was wrong this was wrong but he couldn't move what was he doing if Maka since Maka everything would be different hadn't things changed things would change words were so complicated why couldn't he he shouldn't he but Maka maka

"Heh," came the soft reply of Maka's voice. And that was enough. Chrona ventured to lift his head from Maka's shoulder, and Maka was smiling.

"I love you too, Chrona. You're the best."

And Chrona's heart stopped. His eyes widened, Not with insanity, but with adoration.

"Maka, I..."

"And that's what this was all about?" Maka started laughing, "You were just nervous about something like that?"

Chrona looked back down.

"Aw, Chrona don't be like that, I'm flattered!" Maka said, taking the boy back into a hug, Chrona's face back on her shoulder.

And his gut was telling him this was alright. This was perfect. This was the only thing he ever wanted.

"Maka..."

And he hugged her back.


	9. Cease

**Cease**

* * *

I still hate everything.

_15) "if I"_

* * *

How to deal with that? There's no way to deal with that. With a hand on your back, where the scars from Ragnarok's repeated appearences are. There should be a torso made of black blood there, not a caring hand. Not Maka.

"Chrona, what's wrong?"

There's nothing you can do, even when Maka's talking to you. She's right there, just inches, moments away. You could. But you won't. You never would. She's so close, yet somehow further away than ever before.

"There has to be something, Chrona. Please, tell me."

You won't. You can't. Especially after you betrayed her trust. Completely and totally. Such an underhanded deed will not go unpunished. She doesn't even know. Do you think that she would be here if she did? Disgusting creature.

Her hand is there. Almost as if she is repressing Ragnarok. She could be. If only.

You don't have to do anything. You never have. Simply waiting for things to happen to you. And sitting here quietly is enough for the both of you. Unmoving. Stagnant. Rotting from the core. Utterly disgusting.

Isn't this your last chance, though? The frogs on the windowsill have told you as much. Maka is so close. Raise your head. Isn't she beautiful? Raise your head. Do it.

Her eyes are green, didn't you notice? In stark contrast to your own. Like the sky, like the earth, lamenting that they cannot be together. But what would happen if that connection was made? If you were to take that chance? What will happen if you do?

Try it, it hardly matters anymore.

Such contact is bizzare, and without pain or resistance. For a moment, for the "right now" you wanted. Isn't that enough for you? "Right now" is eternity in your memory. A feeling on your lips to last a lifetime.

It's enough.

It's gone.

It's time to come back.

Chrona, my child.


	10. Puppet

**Puppet**

* * *

I'm really kinda sick. (barfs) Also, this fic is pretty short and not very well thought out. I might try something else from this point of view again.

Oh, bytheway, this is the POV of Raggy. Or Ragtime. Or Dishrag. Or

_**THE END OF THE WORLD**_.

_11) "every move you make"_

_

* * *

  
_

He's like a puppet. Nothing more than a bony wooden puppet. And I'm the puppetmaster. I always have been. Medusa comes second, as far as I'm concerned. After all, Medusa can't control the puppet's movements all the time. I can.

His head's filled with sawdust, too. Can't think for herself. Can't do anything. Hell, where would she be if it wasn't for me? Already dead, that's right. I'm doing him a favor, for christsakes. Pummeled, pulverized, broken into pieces. Definitely nowhere nearer to being a Kishin. Stuck with some other weapon. That'd never protect him. It was always me. Savin' his bony ass every damn day.

Not that I wanted to or anything, but shit, I don't really have a body of my own, y'know? So I'm reduced to working through this puppet. He's more like a crutch or a wheelchair than an actual usable tool though. What's that, a symbiotic relationship or something? 'Cause we'd both be dead if we weren't together, I'll admit to that much. But I've always been the most important. After all, what's that kid got that I don't? Besides, y'know, flesh.

There's probably some kinda metaphor there, right? Something to do with protecting your flesh and blood. But forget about that, I'm a killer, not a poet.

But before, he knew I was the one in control. Hovering over him, I could've fit my hand over his whole head and crush it. I was the puppetmaster, all I needed were some strings to finish up the look. I didn't, though, because he would have been all annoying like, "Raaaaagnarok stop picking on me," in a tone that would be so annoying that I'd have to stop. Even though picking on him was so goddamn fun.

That's how things stood before. And that was okay, that was fine. Goddamnit, that's how it was supposed to be.

Now that I'm the puppet, being dragged around, offering no more protection than a fucking toothpick, I can't even move him how I want the way I used to. I can't feel like I've got a body, a real one, and the strings I never made are being cut off.

But, like I said, I'm not a poet.


	11. Worthlessness

**Worthlessness**

* * *

Hey ginki hey ginki why don't you just change your prompt focus to makaxchrona because that's ALL YOU EVER WRITE EVER, YOU BIG SELF-INDULGENT FAILURE.

_33) "swallowed by the guilt of this"_

* * *

And so, I was back in the desert without a sea. And it was quiet, and that was fine. If I laid out, with my arms outstretched, I bet I would have reached the edges of my area exactly. But I didn't need to take up so much space, so I just brought my knees up to my face and stared at the ground. There were no corners, after all.

And Ragnarok had given up. Because it was hot, or something, but I didn't care. I stopped listening to him a while ago. Although he said something about evaporating. That made me wonder, how long would it take before everything of me just evaporated into the air?

But I didn't look at the sun, because that would take movement and effort and I didn't want to do anything ever again. So I stayed there. Because if I didn't initiate anything, noting would ever happen. I could stay here until I evaporated.

But that never worked before, did it? Medusa made things happen to me. Or Ragnarok. I was never the one who made things happen, why would this time be any different? Of course it wouldn't. I couldn't stay here. No matter what, it would always, always be the same. Obviously, I was incapable of doing anything right, ever.

Only this time, it wasn't Medusa. And it wasn't Ragnarok.

Dammit, it was Maka, and I couldn't deal with that. I couldn't, because I was never going to do anything ever again. I wasn't even going to think. But I'd already said her name. Because I can't even do nothing right.

I can't deal with people, I can't deal with friends, and I definitely can't deal with Maka. Not like before. It was easier then, wasn't it? If I didn't know how to deal with it, I could just get rid of it. Now I have to substitute swords and blood with words and I'm not sure which one is worse.

I hate words. I hate speaking. Did you know my blood is black?

I can hear her now. Footfalls with the same rhythm of a heartbeat. And before that, a motorcycle. And her voice. But I didn't care. I couldn't. I wasn't allowed.

So that was the only way to deal with it.

I screamed, and I yelled, and it was just like Medusa was right there telling me how to deal with things. I was just like being insane all over again. It wasn't nice, but it wasn't bad, either. It was familiar. And since I was reverting back to that, what was familiar, I was completely worthless. That was obvious to begin with. But I didn't care. I just didn't care anymore.

Because I betrayed her. All of them.

So I told her everything was stupid, nothing mattered. Caring about people was worthless, wasn't it? And so was I, because I would refuse to care. To do anything. I'm not sure what all the words that came out were, but I hated every one of them. I hated everything, and I couldn't deal with any of it. Words words words.

Maka was still there, even through all my screaming. I can't even convince anyone to leave. I don't deserve to even be near someone like Maka. But she was still coming towards me and I hated it. I hated it so much and I guess Maka finally realized I can't I can't do anything right and she was going to kill me for it with her bare hands. And that was fine, that was what I deserved.

"You're not allowed to say that about yourself anymore."

Maka's voice was still great to hear. Even if she.

No.

Nonononono.

She can't do this. I don't know how to deal with forgiveness. Please hate me as much as I do, Maka, how can you do this? I don't understand. Why are you even here right now. I can't deal with this. There's no way.

"It was Medusa, wasn't it? She's the one who's been manipulating you!"

Nononononothis was all my fault. Everything. My face is wet now. Why am I crying. I shouldn't be. I don't deserve to be. But Maka, Maka, she's…

"Chrona! Come on! Tell me tell me it's not true!"

But it is it all is please Maka please don't make me say it again it was hard enough the first time. I betrayed you I betrayed you I betrayed you, you, Maka. You can't forgive me for that.

But Medusa…

I'm really crying now. I care. I really do. I care so much it hurts. Because it's Maka and Maka forgives me and everything was Maka. So even though Medusa was going to kill me, really kill me, dispose of me forever, all I really wanted was to be with Maka. And even though I'm crying, I want to tell her. Even if I might betray her again because Medusa medusa medusa medus

"I'm not going to let that happen. I'm never, ever going to let that happen."

Maka is hugging me. Right now, I can reach out and touch her. I can. I do. Maybe she won't notice how selfish I'm being.

"Let's go back together, alright?"

Together. Even though.

Okay.

Okay, Maka.


	12. Landscape

**Landscape**

* * *

Lol, I can't even justify this as one of my 42_souls, but I still kinda like it so whatever. 3

* * *

The desert has a sea.

Of course it does. Not even the world of a soul would be full of nothing but a desert, the sun, and a little child who doesn't know how to deal with it. Of course there's a sea, it's just black. And it made sense that it would be that color too.

The water is calm, usually. Most of the time. And usually it's small. That's when he doesn't care as much. When they're not resonating. It's always there, though, it never goes away just like him.

Other times, the sea is more like an ocean, it expands everywhere, and the sky is so dark, but it isn't raining. It's dangerous, there's only an island left, and the child grabs the sand, floundering to hold on to anything to keep from drowning.

There's nothing in the sea. It's empty. There's no color to the sea, it just absorbs the light of that dying sun. The child never dares to touch it, or go near it, for fear of getting sucked in. More like quicksand than water.

Sometimes, the sea speaks. More than just the crashing of thick waves. But the child won't respond, not ever. Just pass when it asks questions, and never ask any questions of it. No matter how loud the voice becomes. It isn't something that the child could ever understand, after all. Regardless of how many questions are asked. The shadow talks that way too. The child won't ever answer.

If the child walks far enough, the sea will never be encountered again. But, eventually, the tide comes in, creeping up on all sides. But inside the area, the circle with the expanse of land in all directions, the child will be able to deal with it. Those are the rules, and nobody can break them. Even if there's another storm, nothing can get in there. The sea already knows.

It gets lonely, in that landscape. The child tires desperately to make itself smaller, because that way, maybe nobody will notice. Not the shadows, not the sea.

But even though it's quiet, even though it's lonely, the child can hear the waves.

Always.


	13. Death

**Death**

* * *

Wooooow, it's been a while, huh?

Btw, this fic is totally not my fault. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE. YOU MADE ME DO THIS.

It's also probably REALLY obvious what this was inspired from, too. Goddamn that picture made me cry.

* * *

Being dead is a lot like being alive. It's dark. There's nothing around, except maybe a corner. If you stay there, nothing will happen to you. Nothing that wouldn't have happened anywhere else, anyway.

It's sad too, though, because uncertainty is worse than death. There's swill awareness, even if there's no consciousness, and that's the worst part, really. If you didn't have to be aware anymore, then it wouldn't matter. Having a soul is awful. If that wasn't there, none of this would have happened in the first place. Why can't he eat that too? It would have been better like that.

* * *

Maka cut through her as if she were made of paper, and the ethereal image slowly disintegrated with a smile. So she's won, but not really. Not when Chrona is like that.

Because she refuses to say the word. There no way that such a thing could be true, even if Stein is convinced otherwise. It can't. And if she refuses enough, that will make it true. It has to be.

She can't move anymore, even after completing her goal. She won't listen to anyone else because she can't hear them over the sound of the screaming in her own head. But she can't tell anyone that either. She's not crazy, but Chrona is…

No.

"Pr…Professor, do you think… We have enough time for me to try something?"

If she would have looked, she would have seen the pained, apologetic expression on her professor's face. Because he already knows. He already believes. And it hurts to see his students like this.

"Maka," Marie says, "You really do need to go. I'm sorry, but…"

_There's nothing else you can do. _

_ We'll bury the body in a nice place; the poor child deserves that much. _

It was unspoken, but it was there, and Maka hated it. Clenching her teeth in frustration, holding back tears she knew would come again, she laid her forehead against Chrona's. Dammit, she refused.

And she was once again searching for a soul.

* * *

It wasn't all bad. Hell, in some circumstances, this could even have been considered better than life. There was nobody here to tell you to kill, anyways. No pressure to become a kishin. No mother. No Ragnarok. Or maybe that's what this was. But it was too quiet.

But something was coming. Something that could only be known through awareness. That shouldn't be there either, though. And still... Why was she…

"M-Maka…"

There was a sigh, because the knowledge was already there. And the desire to apologize was there too, but at least she was alive. And the goodbyes had already been said.

* * *

Somehow, finding Chrona's quiet soul was both easier and harder than the first time. The first time, she had no idea what to look for, but this time, she understood its wavelength. But it was so quiet and faint that she had to strain to pick it up at all. But she had found it.

Obviously that meant Chrona was alive, and that was all she needed to know. Pulling her friend out of this state would be the next thing she did, of course. Because Maka got things done, that was how she worked.

And her happiness only increased as she approached the unmistakable figure hiding in the corner. Even if Chrona was scared now (and, well heck, she would be too, had she been in Chrona's place) she was here now, and she swore to all the powers that be she would make things better. Because that was what Chrona deserved, not a nice gravesite, dammit.

"Chrona!" she exclaimed, gaining some speed as she approached. But it was all for nothing. There was a wall.

It was invisible, but there was no way to get through it. It wasn't like the water that Soul had pulled her out of the first time, it was completely impenetrable. Maka knew. She tried.

"Chrona!" she exclaimed again, more desperate this time, "Please! Come back!"

She was just so scared. It couldn't be true. It couldn't it couldn't it couldn't it couldn't.

* * *

It _was_ Maka. And Chrona smiling, got up, in spite of the fact that she looked so frightened and sad. Who knew _why_ though. But it was nice enough to see her just one last time. Even if the words she was saying wouldn't get through.

The wall was there, though. It would be hard to apologize to her through that. But there was no point in _not_ trying, either.. Putting a hand against the wall yielded nothing. But it felt important.

There was still a smile, in the hopes that it conveyed everything to her. How sorry. How sad. How happy that she had some one last time. Because that would get Chrona through all the years of awareness that might come. Or maybe not. Maybe this was the end and Chrona was just waiting for her before leaving forever.

But that was okay too. Because for now, Maka was here.

* * *

Maka was more than desperate now, because Chrona was smiling and oh God she knew. Why the soul she had been searching for had been so faint. Why she couldn't hug her friend right now. Why she wouldn't even be able to hear Chrona's voice. And oh God she knew. And she was crying all over again.

"N-No… please don't… Chrona…" and she was crying all over again. As if begging would make Chrona cease to be dead. If she willed it to be true hard enough, then it would be. But she wasn't that naïve, she knew the world didn't work like that. So all she could do was cry.

She put her hand against the wall, directly across from Chrona's. Because this was as close as they could be. This was all the communication she could ever have with Chrona, ever again. No more words were allowed.

* * *

Oh no, she was crying. That hadn't been the intention, and now Chrona was even more sorry. But at least now it was unmistakable that she had won. And the smile was still there but now there were tears, too. There was less understanding of this sort of emotion than the fact that soon, nothing would ever be experienced again. So this ought to be cherished, whatever it was.

Although, Chrona had never quite said goodbye. Maybe this was the time for it, even if she wouldn't have been able to hear. He breathed on the wall, and, sure enough, it behaved just like glass.

* * *

_Bye, Maka._

The letters appeared backwards, of course. But Maka wasn't stupid enough to not know what they said. And she knew. And it was _worse_ now, because she knew Chrona was okay with it. It shouldn't be something you accept! Every life should be dragged out, kicking and screaming and _refusing!_ And she couldn't accept it, she couldn't she wouldn't she…

_I love you._

She was crying even harder now. Her entire body was wracked with sobs, and she couldn't even move her hands to write anything back, that's now badly she was shaking.

_Please don't cry._

And oh God Chrona was going to die and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She could kill Medusa a million times over and Chrona was still going to die.

Her vision was completely blurred with tears. She could barely even see Chrona anymore, let alone the fading words she had been written. Chrona was still smiling, though. Smiling for _her_, even though there were tears. For her.

She couldn't see anything anymore.

* * *

She shook back into consciousness, those same tears still blurring her vision. Only this time, instead of being across from Chrona, she was holding a cold, lifeless, body. And Soul's hand was on her shoulder.

Maka brought the body closer to her, hugging Chrona one last time even though she knew that her friend wasn't there anymore. She nodded when Soul asked her if she was okay, even though it was kind of a lie.

She had to. There was no more time.

_Goodbye, Chrona. _

_I love you, too. _

_But I can't stop crying._


	14. Introduction

**Introduction**

**

* * *

**

Let's have some angst to cancel out that angst in the last chapter!

* * *

It was dark, but that didn't make any difference. There were candles in the church and I could see _Fire's great, right, if you burn everything, all that's left is the_ Shut UP Ragnarok.

They're all gone now, anyway. So we can leave and go back to Medusa. Are we a kishin, yet? _Didn't you say that__ you weren't the type?_ Well, I mean, if it's me.

I'm tired though. I don't want to anymore. But it's not time to leave yet. There's someone else, can't you feel that.

Oh, yeah. I know, I guess. Because those doors only open inward, right?

_Do you remember_ What happened yesterday?

There's a girl now. And it's brighter, because of the lights outside. She doesn't understand_Not yet_What it means to be a kishin. I can already tell. She wasn't the type of person who could become a kishin either.

_So you two are the same. You're both weak. Good thing you've got me on your side. _Ragnarok shut up.

It was a shame, though. She was so pretty. Hiow am I supposed to deal with this now _you have to kill her, kill her like everyone else_ but she's not a kishin either _of course not, neither are you._

That's why?

But I don't want to kill pretty girls. Not just because you say so, Ragnarok. I can't even talk to them. Shouldn't I be running my fingers through her hair? Getting close to her? Reminding her that

"Those doors open inwards."

She doesn't understand. I don't know why. It's obvious. But I guess pretty girls don't have to understand everything.

But then _I'm back_ it hurts, dammit Ragnarok it really hurts and it's embarrassing for you to come out like this when there's a girl I don't want to kill. _But to be a kishin, shitface?_

_ Can't do that. _Medusa says to kill her too. I don't want to, I really don't. But if that's what Medusa is saying to I can't do anything about it. I have to. Maybe she'll forgive me once you've eaten her and her weapon, Ragnarok. _Like hell she will. _

We're going to fight now, aren't we?

_Damn straight. _

And we're close. Fighting means I'm closer to this girl and she's a lot stronger than all of those people Ragnarok just ate. But I don't think all pretty girls are this strong. She must be special. _Or maybe you're just too weak. _

Shut up Ragnarok that's not what I'm thinking. _I know exactly what you're thinking. _

She's beating me up, I guess. Anyone who stays alive long enough wants to.

_But you don't even care, do you? Idiot. Just kill her already, then you can look at her as much as you want. _

Can I? Her weapon stood in front of her. Taking the hit for her. I don't know what that means. He's gone now. She looks scared. She's a little rabbit and I'm going to _just do it already, stop thinking about it. Thinking clouds your mind or whatever. _

She's backed up against the doors the doors that open inwards aren't you going to turn around it won't be quick enough but you can try closer and closer and closer Ragnarok is going to eat your soul and your weapon is gone what are you going to do now nothing nothing at all _get on with it already, bitch. _

I have to. But first.

"You're so pretty."

Laughing, because pretty girls should know. They should know the feeling of hands running through their hair. And lips on their cheeks. And swords through their guts.

She's bleeding and her blood is red. The same color every person has.

"Sorry."

_Let's go already._

_..._

_..._

"Yeah, okay."


	15. Dating

**Dating**

**

* * *

**

lol, okay, we can also have anti-angst.

Do you like a double-update? I enjoy a double-update myself. :V

* * *

Most of the days that change a person's life start out normally. You wake up in your dorm, which may or may not be colder than usual, but that's no indication that the day will change your life. You go to class with your best friend, and your teacher decides to rant about her current woes in regards to how she can't get a date, but that's no indication either.

But when, after you leave school, and you're just watching people in the city from your vantage point next to her on the school roof, and suddenly, out of nowhere, she says that…

"Hey, Chrona… do you… want to start dating?"

Then, yeah, that might be an indicator that your life will never, ever be the same.

"W-What?" despite the fact that everything was over, and the world at large was no longer plunged into insanity (it had been peaceful for some months now), Chrona still wasn't quite over his timid speech patterns. And, well, with a statement like that, who could really blame him?

"I mean, we're already always hanging out, and I really, really like you," Maka said, gently taking ahold of his hand, "…and, well, I just wanted to know. If you don't want to, I mean, that's fine too."

Chrona had gone blank, completely forgetting how to speak. Dating, had, well, certain other connotations, and if he was doing _that_, with Maka, well… he wasn't entirely sure if he could deal with it. But… Maka… she…

He had felt the same way about her, since the beginning. Even that night in the church, before they were friends, he thought she was pretty. But now that he _was_ friends with her, and he knew more about her, that feeling had only grown. Maka was amazing, how could anyone _not_ want to be with her?

…Was this a joke or something? Was he dreaming?

"Chrona?" Maka asked again, maybe a little embarrassed, "S-Sorry, I guess I shouldn't have asked. "

She moved to let go of his hand, and suddenly Chrona was snapped back into reality. Maka had just offered him the ability to be _even closer_ to her. How could he reject something like that?

"No!" Chrona suddenly exclaimed, and Maka looked confused. Hadn't he just rejected her outright? But she stayed silent, waiting for Chrona's next statement to come.

"I… I…. If you want to, Maka…" he said, looking at his feet. Because obviously he wouldn't be able to face her in a situation like this, but he still tried to take her hands back into his, "C-Can I? Really?"

And of course Maka was blushing now, because she had honestly been worried about his reaction to her offer. Granted, she wasn't expecting him to think it was a lie, how could she ever do something like that to him?

She nodded, although she wasn't entirely sure if he could see it. So she decided to change her tactic, and leaned down to meet his gaze, smiling just a little more when she saw his expression., obviously _wanting_ to smile but not knowing if that was the proper reaction.

"Yes," she ended up saying simply, kissing him on the cheek like she had wanted to for what seemed like forever., giggling as she heard him let out a gasp when she pulled away.

Almost immediately, his expression changed. Almost similar to the time that she had asked to be his friend, he was sniffing and trying to hold back tears. Only this time, he was smiling.

"O-Okay… I mean, I… If it's with y-you. Then I," Chrona was having some trouble remembering how to think. Because if this really wasn't a lie, then…

But he didn't have time to think about it too hard, because Maka was giggling and hugging him tightly and… hell, how did she manage to look so pretty like that?!

"I'm so glad, Chrona," she said, still hugging him, "I love you."

And Chrona had an extremely difficult time not passing out because had Maka really just said that? He felt exactly the same way, but he could never have the courage to actually say so. But, maybe, like this? If he hugged her back?

"I… M-me too. I.. l… love you too," it was probably the quietest, most mumbled confession of love in the history of the world, but Maka heard it, and she could hardly repress her smile, especially since his arms were around her and he actually wasn't crying.

Well, maybe a little bit of crying.

But he was happy, he never thought someone like him would be allowed to be this happy, to be allowed to be this close to someone like Maka. He had hugged her before, but somehow, just with those words, it was so much different.

Maka loosened her grip around him, backing away so she could see his face. So she could reach out and _touch _his face. So she could and bring that happy-if-confused expression closer to her. So she could kiss him for real.

And of course he passed out.

"Aaaaaah! I'm sorry! I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!"Maka wailed, catching him before he fell.

But that was okay, maybe, eventually, he would be able to deal with things like this. After all, he would hopefully be able to be with Maka, like this, for a long time to come.


	16. Forget

**Forget**

* * *

HEY OHKUBO _STOP PUTTING CHRONA IN ONLY ONE FRAME EVERY CHAPTER OR I'M GOING TO..._

Do absolutely nothing.

Stop being an asshole anyway, Ohkubo.

* * *

Ragnarok was there, as always. He was a constant, if nothing else.

Well, Medusa was a constant, too. Even in the brief time Chrona spent at Shibusen, Medusa's presence was constant. There had never been a day that Chrona didn't think about these two. When they weren't at the forefront, then they were looming in the background of every thought Chrona had ever had.

So this was really no different.

In all honesty, it would probably be better if Chrona were to forget the time spent at Shibusen. There was some phrase like that, probably. If Chrona never knew what it was like to be at least kind of happy, then this would have been much easier to deal with. There wasn't any point in saying it was impossible to deal with anymore, the constants of Chrona's life had long since stopped caring.

So it would be better if Chrona were to forget. Everyone else must have, right? They were probably living peacefully now, and Chrona didn't really resent them for it. From the memories, Chrona knew that living a normal life must have been really great, so that was what they all should be doing, especially...

Chrona couldn't bear to remember too much, though. And it was all too much, but it was all that there was to do in the dungeon, waiting for one of two constants to interrupt these memories. They became more and more difficult to recall as the days (or was it years? Chrona wasn't sure, there was no sense of time here) went by.

It was at this point Chrona's memories of friends and peace and playing basketball were replaced by the other two constants of life, hunger and fear.

_"Good morning, Fear, I just woke up, so it must be morning. Would you like to join me and Mister Corner? I'm sure today will be a wonderful day."_

Fear doesn't reply, and neither does hunger. Chrona doesn't mind, though, because silence is so much better than insults and abuse. But fear moves away, and gets replaced by Apathy. Apathy is a good friend, too, much better than--

_"It's really true, Hunger, I had real people as friends, once. My best friend, her name was..."_

But Chrona can't remember, it's too tiring to remember something like that. Besides, whoever it was probably forgot about Chrona long ago. It was only fair, since Chrona is forgetting about her, too.

It's all too much. So Chrona falls asleep again and dreams about being in a warm embrace. But she still doesn't remember from who.

The dream is the last thing that leaves Chrona's mind, while staring blankly upwards, towards the ceiling, and does it even matter if this room is dark or light, it all just blends together after a while.

Chrona doesn't remember anything. The world extends until the walls of this room, Chrona has never seen anything else. Each time that black-blooded creature emerges from her back it's as though Chrona is experiencing it for the first time. Every time that woman enters the world it's as though Chrona is surprised by the pain that follows.

But sometimes, when the door of the world closes once more, there's a sound that Chrona can make that is complete and total nonsense, but still somehow manages to make the world seem a bit warmer, something Chrona might be able to deal with for just a second longer.

"Maka..."

Complete and total nonsense.


End file.
